


Working Out the Kinks

by reynkout



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Arguing, Asphyxiation, Ass to Mouth, Choking, Come Swallowing, Doggy Style, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Graduate School, I don't even know anymore, JM Week 2015, M/M, Making Up, Missionary Position, No Plot/Plotless, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Prompt Fic, Rough Sex, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Seduction, Sex, Teasing, Threesome - M/M/M, darco is an individual person, darco is too sexy for himself, jean is a nerd, many a beej, marco is too good for himself, this is a weirdo fic, this is like a fucked up frankenstein shit isnt it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 20:33:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4277010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reynkout/pseuds/reynkout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean makes a mistake when testing out his 3D project during his paid internship at the AlloSphere in Santa Barbara, resulting in the creation of Darco; Darco Bodt. He can't leave him at his office for fear that Darco might, with his very strong seduction skills, devour the security guard Eren Jaeger. But what happens when he brings Darco home to Marco, his boyfriend for what's now been three years?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Working Out the Kinks

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, you!
> 
> I am. Ashsamed. It's the end of JM Week 2015 + OT3 Week and I have _just_ posted something for it. I am so so sorry!  
>  I'm finally trying out a OT3; it's hard because I'm really a jealous type of person. So, allowing Jean to have both Marco and Darco was a little tricky since my conscience was subliminally screaming at me the entire time. **That does not mean I'm against OT3s.** It's just a little complicated writing them.  
>  But aaanyway, I had fun cramming this all in just less than a week whilst my other projects and such. Currently, I'm looking for a job in the new area I live in (and had to skip Anime Expo), so that's been taking up _tones_ of my time. I hope I can keep writing, though!  
>  There's also not enough Darco fanfics, and I'd love there to be, so maybe expect more from me sometime?? I like Darco a lot. He could have been a bit darker in this fic, but I'm still testing the waters with this OT3 thing, so we'll see.  
> Okay, enough of my blabbering and on with the story! See you at the bottom of the page. ;-)  
> Happy JeanMarco Week and OT3 Week!

Twenty-ninth. 29.

That’s the date today. It’s blazing hot out in Santa Barbara, and Jean has nothing better to do than sit in his lab at the AlloSphere, the best 3D simulator yet. His mind, however, isn’t on the programming code that glares from the computer screen in front of him. Marco’s on his mind, like always.

Marco Bodt, Jean’s fun, sweet boyfriend who _isn’t_ going into STEM. He’s already graduated, actually. And older, too, if only by a year. He’s in cosmetology, of all things, already making an impact on all those TV Shows filmed on sets in LA. Jean loves him to death, and he absolutely can not get his mind off of Marco.

His phone buzzes.

**Marco  
You forgot your lunch again.**

**Wait.**

**Are those Dino Buddies?  
Really Jean? You bring chicken nuggets to school? How cuuute.  <3**

**I’m just gonna bring it.**

**It’s mine now.**

**Say bye-bye to your Dinos. They belong to me.**

Jean rolls his eyes, sighing.

 **fine** , he types quickly. **you owe me a lunch later**

**Marco  
Love you too.  <3**

**See you at home.**

Jean smiles. **love you.**

He turns back to his other screen, grimacing at the half-assed coding he’s done in the last three hours. Briefly scrolling through it, a quarter of the script makes absolutely no sense. He’s not even trying here, and it’s driving him nuts. So much for this paid internship. He’s been able to make a total knee surgery simulation, an interactive nervous system diagram, and a log cutting ‘virtual experience’ game. Now his ‘boss’ (can you call someone as personal and friendly as Armin Arlert a boss?) wants him to make an interactive model of a human being?

“That’s impossible,” Jean murmurs into his Fruit Gusher-flavored Monster.

There’s way too many components in a human body to even translate into code, he thinks, let alone program into the AlloSphere. Just the brain structure and reactive reflex time would be challenging to get right. Besides, it’s not like there’s anyone on he could ever think of...

“Marco.” His mouth is on automatic. “What if I made Marco?”

It seems like a legitimate idea. If anything, Marco would be delighted that Jean made a model resembling him; he’d show Marco just how much he’s committed to learning all about him. They’ve been living together long enough to where they both know what their shoe size is, how they like to take their coffee, who likes rare meat and who likes it well-done (Marco loves everything from tar-tar to rare; Jean is exactly the opposite), what position they like to sleep in... Jean knows every ridge and dip of Marco; has discovered every nook and cranny closely, with much care. He’s studied Marco, and continues to study him, finding his boyfriend as fine as a piece of beautifully sculpted art.

Jean stretches his arms and back, yawning wide open before settling back in his ergonomic study chair. His ass is numb from sitting for so long, but he figures it won’t be a hindrance to him. He can get up and do some laps around the building if he gets too stiff.

Right now, though, he deletes the mass of junk he wrote this morning, preparing himself for the long journey to make a 3D replica of Marco Bodt.

* * *

"When will you stop treating me like a science project, Jean?" Marco says like it's no big deal, but there's this hint of irritation in his voice.

They're at it again; on each other's nerves and ready to wrangle their necks. Jean's always accused of something, and Marco's always the one who gets hurt. They hate arguing, they try not to do it, but it's inevitable, even for the happiest of couples.

Jean runs his hands through his blond hair, clearly done with this conversation even though it's barely started. "It's not like that! I'm only doing it because..."

"Because what, Jean? Because it's just for science?" Marco's eyebrows knit together. "I don't want to be _just for science_. I want to be your boyfriend, not an experiment."

Jean groans, “I know.”

“You know _what_?” Marco eggs him on. “You know that I’m not an experiment, or that you know I’m your boyfriend?”

“Both!” Jean says, hands clenching into fists. “And besides, that’s basically the same damn thing, Marco.”

Marco, who’s dutily washing the dishes, scrubs harder, glaring at Jean. “No, Jean, it’s not.”

His boyfriend throws his hands in the air. “Fine,” he says. “Call it what you like. I’m going to bed.”

“Like you could go to sleep without me,” Marco scoffs, cleaning the lip of a glass a little too hard. “You don’t even know how to have self-control and put down your phone.”

“I do so have control over myself!” Jean shakes his head. This is ridiculous. He knows himself well enough that he's going to stay up watching YouTube all night instead of counting sheep like he's supposed to in bed.

“Good, then you don’t need me.” Marco concludes whipping his head around again to squint at Jean’s face.

Jean guffaws.“Aw, Marco! That’s not what I mean! You know that!”

“No," Marco says simply. "I don’t know that.”

“Enough with what we know and what we don’t know!” Jean grits his teeth. “Why do you keep throwing my words back at me, Marco? I just wanted to talk to you. We rarely see each other at home anymore. You’re always so busy..”

“And you’re not? It’s always ‘AlloSphere’ this, ‘Armin’ that!” Marco yells; the glass breaks within his grip, shattering in the sink. He scrunches up his face in pain, slowly backing away from the sink. He turns off the water, stumbling a little on his feet, mesmerized by the red blood starting to drip from his hands.

Jean rushes to his side, leading Marco to the couch and sits him down. “Sorry,” He mumbles, “Stay here, I’m going to get the first aid.”

Marco stays put, catatonic as his eyes fix on the blank TV screen in front of him. Maybe he had taken the thing that recently irks him too far in the argument. Jean and Marco have never had so much of a fight like this one. Sure, they’ve quarreled over nonsense like the way one should properly drop a bath bomb into the tub or how much salt should go into Marco’s chicken marsala dish, but never something like this. This is much more serious, and both of them know it. It isn’t going to end with make-up sex like normal. No, it’s going to to take time… Because it’s addressing a fault in Jean’s character that hasn’t come up until now for the past three years they’ve been together. Or so Marco thinks.

When Marco’s boyfriend comes back to clean and bandage Marco’s cut palms, he does everything swiftly, albeit gently, touch soft and reassuring when Marco jerks as the rubbing alcohol stings in his wound. The neosporin helps soothe it, however, bringing some relief to Marco and his ailment.

“Sorry,” Jean repeats, “Sorry,” Pursing his lips, Marco huffs. “I guess we… just need some time to think this over.” Jean continues.

“...Yeah,” Marco looks anywhere but at Jean.

“I guess so.”

* * *

3\. July third, and tomorrow is a holiday.

It’s the last week before his project deadline, and Marco, uh, Replica Marco is almost finished. Jean is just about finished on the final details on the physical features and tweaking some of the preprogrammed movements. During the months that had passed, Jean’s been paying close attention to Marco and _everything_ he does. All the quirks that he notices go directly into the program at work, giving Replica Marco more character to everything he does.

Jean gets a little red in the face when he finally allows himself to check over the genitals. Shit, not to get worked up or anything. He’s been perfecting it for over the last three weeks on and off. Jean wants it to be as close as possible to Marco. Maybe just as sweet as Marco, too, when he puts him up on the big AlloSphere screen and interacts with him for the first time.

But, inside his heart, he yearns to see Marco again. Not that they haven’t slept next to each other every night since their argument, but all deep conversations have been put to a halt. Jean keeps his promises, and doesn’t get further than the regular ‘how was your day?’. He misses Marco and his sass. He misses him and his _ass_...

A tap on the shoulder snaps him out of his focus. He whips his head around, only to see Armin standing right behind him. He’s smiling gently, like always.

“Whoa, didn’t mean to scare you,” he says.

Jean shakes his head, sighing, “No, it’s fine.” He scrubs his hands down his face. He probably needs a break from the computer. Talking with Armin is pleasant, anyhow. “What’s up, Armin?”

Armin gestures at the computer screen. “How’s it going? Smooth, I hope.”

Jean nods, trying to return Armin’s smile. “He’s okay. All the tests have gone smoothly so far; just need to add a few more fine details and he should be good.”

“He?” Armin asks.

“Oh.” Jean bites his lip, squeaking, “Y-yeah. I made the model a male.”

Jean’s boss beams then, his smile going from 100 watt to a million. He pats Jean on the back, adjusting the glasses resting on his nose bridge so he can take a closer look. “You’re really going all out, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir.” says Jean.

Armin uses the mouse to skim through the various layers and textures. “Awesome. I’m excited to see it,” Jean feels a sense of pride swelling up inside of him, and he realizes that he is also very anxious to see his project in action on the AlloSphere. “Be careful, though.” Armin draws back. “It’s storming out. It’d be best if you don’t use the AlloSphere until it passes.”

“Strange weather,” comments Jean, rubbing the back of his neck. “Never heard of it until today.”

“Yeah, didn’t think July would still have rain in its schedule.” Armin agrees. His phone beeps then, and he pulls back to check it. “I’ve got a meeting. See you later, Jean.”

“Bye, see you.” Jean replies, waving briefly before directing his attention back to his computer screen. Armin smiles again before he takes his leave.

Replica Marco’s skin turns out to be more complicated to fix than Jean thought in the beginning. He can’t seem to find the right shade; he’s either too orange or too ashy brown. Cold fingers rake through Jean’s blond hair, and he opts for a paler color that seems a little better than the two options for tanned skin, much to his personal dismay. He just has to deal with it. At least the freckles are fine.

Checking the weather online, it looks like there’s no thunder. Whatever Armin was saying about power outages or something must just be a naive precautionary. It wouldn’t hurt to give Replica Marco a test run on the big screen, right? Besides, Jean’s triple checked the model and all his coding; he’s deemed it good each time.

Making his way down to the screen room, Jean stops to say hello to a few of the security guards, grimacing when one of them, Eren, tells him he looks like a shrimp in the clothes Marco picked out for him today.

“Shut up,” Jean retorts. “Not like you can wear something better.”

Eren scoffs, “You sure about that, _Jeen_? I think I could fill those skinny jeans better than you ever will.” Jean gives him a look, much like the ones Marco gives him when he knows the latter is wrong. “What? It’s the truth.”

“And here you are, in a fucking blue security outfit.” Jean pretends to scan Eren up and down.

Eren huffs, “Cos I’m at work!”

“Well, so am _I_.” Jean says. “Whatever. I’m gonna test out the AlloSphere.” Eren leaves him be (thank god!), giving him access to the screen.

Plugging the various cables into the computer provided there, Jean transfers his data to it as soon as the AlloSphere recognizes his log in. If this works, Jean’ll be able to project Replica Marco on the big screen, interact with him; make sure everything is a-okay before the big show date with his boss and a few others. Holy shit, just the thought is making his palms sweat.

Focus, Jean thinks. The sooner you get this done, the less your nerves will be on edge.

Just then, a rumbling sound erupts from above, almost scaring Jean out of his mind. He catches himself, getting his breathing back to normal, although his heart rate has just doubled. What the hell?

“Thunder!” Eren oh-so-kindly informs him by screaming, “There’s some terrible weather going on outside today,”

That reminds Jean, when was the last time he trusted the weather forecast online? He always went by what he saw in the morning. Well, when he's taking the bus to work. But he gets there so early; the sky is almost pitch-dark during his commute. He guesses Marco knows but, recently, they haven’t been able to talk to each other due to the crazy hours they have to work every day. Besides, when they _are_ at home together, they’re too tired to hold a conversation, and wind up passing out in their seemingly comfy bed even though the mattress is beat beyond repair from all its gone through for the past few years.

He misses Marco’s gossip stories about the actors and actresses he works with, filling Jean in on all the latest shows coming out, even spoiling a few episodes for him. He misses when the frequent kisses when he gets home, or when Marco decides to hold hands with him while they eat dinner. He misses being with his boyfriend, living a life that’s simple and predictable with Marco.

Whatever. Everything will right out in the end. And today, there’s just a bit of thunder, that’s all. No need to get scared and abandon ship to think about his personal crisis instead. Jean still wants to go for it; to set up and interact with Replica Marco. Besides, the worst thing that would happen would be the possibility it wouldn’t work and they’d have a minor blackout. He’s not worried about his data. He’s made extra copies of it on USB sticks. He even emailed a .zip to himself, just in case.

“Come on, Jean, why are you stalling?” he talks to himself. “Ridiculous.”

His hands fly across the keyboard. Here goes nothing. Jean starts up the AlloSphere, its high-powered machinery buzzing above him. Typing in a few more commands and, for the umpteenth time, checking over some of the general logistics of Replica Marco, Jean’s finally ready to put his project to action. He clicks on the start up.

It takes a few seconds before there’s any response from the computer, but it initiates the program smoothly after that. It constructs Replica Marco a few layers at a time, just like Jean had hoped for, giving a nice visual of how much detail there really is to a human being. Of course, everything goes in a super speedy motion; Jean knows that, if it takes too long, people watching the interactive load will bore easily.

The last of the facial features load completely, every detail done being translated and added to Replica Marco’s body. There, in front of Jean, stands a nearly 30-foot Marco, completely bare of clothing. Fuck, he didn’t even think of clothing until now. And now is a little too late.

Replica Marco stares and blinks at him, tracing Jean’s movement on the ground in front of him. Jean gulps, awed to see a copy of his boyfriend on such a big screen, looking right back at him just like Marco usually does.

“Hi..?” Jean whimpers, still unsure of his finished product.

Replica Marco blinks once more before replying, “Hello,”

“Hi,” Jean smiles, and Replica Marco copies him. Those pearly whites, so perfect and clean on screen, are almost blindingly white. “I’m Jean.”

“Nice to meet you, Jean.” His voice is still a little robotic and rigid, but it will work. It’s even in the same pitch as the real Marco’s voice. “My name is WKTK 10457--,”

“Wait,” Jean interrupts his creation. “Wait. Sorry, that was your file name. I actually still need to name you.”

“You need to name me?” Replica Marco tilts his head to the side, arching a brow. Something the real Marco would do.

“Y-yeah,” says Jean, heading over to the computer to rename the file. “What do you wanna be called?” Stupid question, he realizes. His program can’t make up a name for itself... himself. “Never mind, never mind. I’ll.. think of something.”

_KABOOM_

There’s a shock of bright white coming from the glass entrance doors of the building. Lightning, Jean would presume, but everything just flies by so quickly, and he barely has time to register what he sees before the earth-shattering rumble of thunder.

Sparks from the AlloSphere’s cables and computer system fly, nearly catching fire to Jean’s pants. He hits the ground, rolling away from both the screen and computer monitor. Replica Marco makes a confused expression before the big screen shuts off, hot, fiery streaks of heat coming from it as well. Jean can only duck and cover; he waits it out before feeling his way through the darkness, reaching for something, anything.

Oh, there, a hand. Thank god.

“Jean,” he hears Marco’s voice. But it can’t be Marco. Marco’s at work. It's gotta be Eren.

Jean laughs it off. “Come on, Jaeger, stop being a douche. You know you’ve got no right to mimic my boyfriend.”

“You talking to me, Kirstein? I didn’t say nothing. Stop making fun of me and let me get the power back up.”

Wait, that’s Eren’s voice... off in the distance. If Eren’s all the way over there, then who is over here? Who is the owner of this hand Jean feels so comfortable holding onto?

“Who are you--,” Jean’s beginning to ask, but the lights flick back on before he’s able to finish his question. “What the fuck?! Da-um-marco??” His mouth won’t work, even if he tries. ‘Damn it, Marco??’ is what he wanted to say.

In front of Jean is who looks like his boyfriend Marco, except there’s something off about him. For one thing, Marco is much more tan than this guy, more soft and warm. This Marco has pasty white skin with a hue Jean can only describe as dull and dead. Not only that, but his hair is more of a black than the luscious dark brown the real Marco’s is.

But that’s not the most shocking part. No, Jean hasn’t even gotten to this Marco’s face yet. When his does, he’s shuffling away, screaming his head off.

This Marco’s got the upper right part of his face marred, as if lightning decided to hit that particular spot of his face only. The vein-like patterns travel from the edge of his forehead, traveling down to his eye... or, what can be _called_ an eye. It’s gruesome to look at; skin so scarred over that it’s a pinkish-purple, covering the eye socket completely. Only a few indents in the scarring hint that there once used to be an eyelid there.

“Jean?” The Marco draws closer to Jean, a, oh god, is that a smirk on his lips? Fuck. He resembles Marco so much, Jean almost gives into relaxing and letting this... thing crawl toward him.

And did he mention this Marco is completely void of clothing? It’s embarrassing to see Marco’s body out in the open, where Jean just knows Eren’s gawking at them like an idiot. Unconsciously, Jean licks his lips as his tawny eyes travel down to the Marco’s lower regions.

How many times can he swear? Holy fuck, this Marco is just as endowed as the real Marco is. It’s perfect; the shape and pink color towards the tip. Not only that; the turtleneck of foreskin is just like Marco’s, coddling the tip like a cute, little sweater. And.. oh, fuck. Jean stares at it with a hungry look; this Marco has got a _raging_ hard-on, just waiting for him to ride and relieve. But Jean _can’t_. Not right now. He’s still at work, he realizes, and there’s a fucking copy of Marco in pale crawling towards him.

“What in the...” Eren’s getting closer. Oh god, now he can see everything. “Oh my god!” When Jean looks at him, his jaw is on the floor. “Jean? Isn’t this your..?”

“It’s not Marco,” assures Jean, shaking his head. He denies himself the right to call this replica of Marco ‘Marco’.

“But,” Eren can’t peel his eyes away from the Marco in front of him, ass high in the air as he continues to make his way toward Jean. “Ohh, that sure looks like Marco to me, Jean.”

“Well, it’s not, Eren!” Jean is exasperated, and he wishes that he could just wake up from a horrible dream, safe in the _real_ Marco’s arms.

And then the Marco speaks, “That’s right, Eren, I’m not.” He turns his head over his shoulder, peering up at the security guard like he’s about to eat him. Eren looks like he’s right about to come in his fucking pants. “My name,” He breathes. “Is Darco.”

Oh, please no, Jean thinks to himself. He pulls the copy of Marco to his chest, giving a nervous little whinny in the process, “Come on, Marco! Stop playing around. This prank has been play too far now. Look at Eren. He looks like he’s about to die seeing you.” He laughs, trying to make it a little more believable.

“Good,” Darco snarls. Jean grasps him by the back of the neck as a warning.

Eren, thankfully, takes it as a joke. “Ohh my god. And, for a second, I thought your nerdy experiment actually brought a 3D animation to life.” He wheezes. “How’d you get that timing down? You couldn’t have known there was a power outage coming. That could get you arrested, Kirstein.”

“No, no.” Jean says. “Must’ve been a one in a millionth chance, but that was pretty, uh, cool.”

Eren lifts an eyebrow. “And why is your face all scarred up like that, Marco?”

Jean holds Darco a little firmer, speaking for him. “Just for effect. Thought it matched with today’s weather is all.”

Eren shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck before he starts walking back to his post. “Well,” His voice trails behind him. “Con-flippin’-gratulations for freaking the hell out of me. See ya, losers." Then, he adds, "Get a room!"

When Eren’s out of hindsight, Jean sighs in relief. But his peace is short-lived, because he still has this Darco problem to deal with.

Sitting back on his haunches, Darco gazes into Jean’s eyes with his brown one. He’s still hard as a rock, standing at full attention, beginning to drip precome on the ground. He mewls into Jean’s ear when Jean releases him from his grasp; he slinks away from Jean before slithering into his lap, arousal pressing hard against the latter’s crotch.

“Fuck,” Jean groans. “Get off of me,”

Darco grins. “And why?”

It takes everything in Jean to push the boyfriend look-alike away. He stands to his full height, looking down at him. “Because,” he says. “You’re not Marco. I don’t sleep with strangers.”

Darco pouts for a second before kneeling at Jean’s feet like some pet. “You think I’m a stranger, Jean? After all that time you’ve spent creating me?” His hand strokes up Jean’s pant leg. “Hmm, you really think so, _master_?”

"Don't." A shiver of undeniable pleasure runs through Jean’s entire body, and he almost loses his composure.

Rolling his shoulders, he steadies himself. Darco’s got a point there. He _did_ spend plenty of hours working on Darco and all his details. Besides the paleness of his skin, the scarred side of Darco’s face is the only thing that differentiates him from Jean’s boyfriend, who is probably waiting for him at home with a nice dinner and something nice planned in the bedroom.

“Don't. I’m... gonna go home,” Jean says in a hurry. “And don’t call me that. My name’s pronounced Jean. How’d you even come up with your name, anyway?”

Darco cocks his head. “I thought you were the one who came up with it. You called out, ‘D-arco!’ when you first saw me.”

Jean is tempted to facepalm, but restrains himself from doing so. “I was tongue-tied.”

“But you named me,” says Darco.

Jean can’t seem to win this fight, so he drops it. “Fine, so be it. I’m leaving.”

But he knows he’s gotta bring Darco with him. There’s no other choice. If he leaves Darco here, in the AlloSphere, he might just reek havoc on every security guard... maybe the other interns, too. Or, worse yet, on Jean’s boss; poor Armin would be tortured by this monster Jean’s program (and the lightning) has created. Jean definitely doesn’t want to risk it.

He takes Darco by the arm, leading him back up to his little cubicle workspace. There’s almost no one there; most people have taken the day off for some reason or another. Like they knew the storm was coming and would rather stay safe at home and watch the thunder and lightning from a distance. Jean sits the naked Darco down in his computer chair. It’s embarrassing, looking at his creation lounging in front of him, legs spread wide and inviting, Darco’s erection still arched and full. Jean’s tongue rolls out just a bit as he fantasizes about what it would taste like.

Would he have the same scent as Marco? Or would it be different? Would he like the taste of his come? Swallow it all? Deplete some of his thirst by using his creation? Fuck, Jean knows this is so wrong. He can’t just _cheat_ on Marco... or, well, something like that. Darco and Marco are almost the same thing, more or less. But not. No way in hell. Darco's aura is too sinister to be Marco's. Jean clears his throat, diverting his attention to pack up his stuff.

Throwing an extra pair of jeans (don’t ask; Jean’s always prepared for overnight stays at the office) and his coat at Replica Marco, he simply commands, “Change into these. We’re going as soon as you’re done.”

Darco’s eyelashes flutter as he whispers a low, “Thank you... Jean.” He clothes himself, making sure to taunt Jean by zipping up the jeans excruciatingly slow after tucking himself in. Fastening the button seems to break the spell, however, because Jean snaps at him to hurry up and ‘get that jacket on’. Reluctantly, he covers up, following Jean out the AlloSphere and to his car.

The car ride is a painfully silent one. Jean’s eyes keep trailing to Darco, though his eyes really should be on the road instead. There’s this urge in him that makes him want to pull over on the side and fuck Darco’s stupid smirk right off his face, but Jean ignores it. There’s no sense in giving into it, because Marco is waiting for him at home, ready to welcome him back and, hopefully, have a solution for this whole Darco incident. Maybe they can hide him somewhere, at least until Jean can find a way to get Darco back into the big screen..? If that even made any sense. Jean’s brain is too fried from today’s bout of events. He just wants to go home and deal with everything later.

But Darco’s making it difficult for him, one of his hands sliding up and down his creator’s thigh, fingers dancing so close to where his dick is beginning to chub under his pants. Jean bites his lip, another ‘don’t’ floating high in the air of the car. But Darco just flashes Jean a smile, digging into the fabric to undo the obstacles that lay in his path.

“Darco,” Jean gasps, gritting his teeth together. “Stop, please,” He tries to focus on the traffic ahead of him, but Darco doesn’t ease up, instead bending lower to breathe hot breaths over Jean’s dick. His mouth is so dangerously close, but Jean doesn’t want to do anything rash and swerve them into a tree or, worse yet, another person commuting back from a long day at work. Jean pulls into the driveway just in time, swatting away Darco from his pants, as guilty as it feels to slap his, uh, Marco look-alike. “We’re home.”

His stomach is being shredded by the nervousness, the fear that Marco might misunderstand the situation at hand. How would Marco react to seeing a man very similar to him, walk into the house with Jean when they’ve been planning to apologize about the fight last time, have a romantic little dinner with some very comforting sex afterward. He gets no time to think about the ‘what if’s though, because Marco’s already opening the door for Jean.

Marco smiles at Jean, that glint of desire already established in his eyes; not for long. His sultry look turns shocked when they land on Darco. Jean has some explaining to do before Marco gets mad.

“Uh, I can explain,” he mutters.

Marco crosses his arms over his chest. Disappointment, Jean reads Marco's face. “Well, go on.” His voice is sarcastic, like he’s running impatient.

Jean sighs. “I was almost done with my 3D projection for UCSB, so I decided for a test run and then the lightning struck! And then _he_ was there, and almost tried to uh, and...” Marco stares at him with the same cynical expression as before. “This isn’t really making any sense to you, is it?” he concludes.

His boyfriend keeps quiet, sizing up Darco, who stands to the right of Jean’s shoulder. When he notices the missing eye, his mouth opens in a tiny ‘o’.

“What happened to you?” he asks, swinging open the door to stride his way over to Darco.

Jean shrugs, answering for Darco. “Dunno. Guess it was ‘cos of the lightning.”

“You were struck by lightning, uh, uh...”

“Darco,” Marco’s look-alike replies.

“Darco!” Jean’s boyfriend laughs. “Darco? You named him Darco, Jean?”

Jean groans, “It was a mistake. I misspoke and then _this_ happened to adopt the name.” He points over at Darco, who smiles enough to show his teeth.

“You,” Marco strokes Darco’s freckled cheek. “Are so well designed...” Darco murmurs a ‘thank you’. “And you,” Marco turns to Jean, pulling him in by the hem of his shirt. “Are in so much trouble for worrying me,” He smooches him wet and sloppy. It makes some sort of sense in head why Jean has been so weird over the past weeks; all because of the creation of Darco..? When they pull apart, Marco blushes, straightening himself out. “Oh, um,” he says to Darco. “Sorr--, mmph?”

Jean gawks as Darco smashes his lips against Marco’s, Marco nearly wheeling back into the house as he does. Darco’s hands are on him everywhere, stroking and kneading and groping Marco’s... everything. His hands roam, fingers smoothing over his sides and teasing by his hips. They slide to the hem of his shirt, ever-so-slowly wiggling under the fabric. Marco jerks from his touch, but elicits a small moan when fingertips wisp across his sensitive navel. His eyes, at first wide with surprise, roll closed with a sensual gasp. Their tongues meet each other in an electric shock, excitement and lust coursing through Marco’s veins like nothing he’s ever experienced before.

They slurp at each other, arms wrapping around one another in an intimate embrace. Languid tongues dance together in a perfect tango, exploring a mouth so familiar, like Marco’s own, but it’s different. As much as he is the same, Darco kisses, breathes, _feels_ like a unique individual. He knows every sensitive spot on Marco, though, and he’s not afraid to push all those buttons. Marco tilts his head to break the kiss, letting out a groan that draws both Jean and Darco’s attention to him and him only.

Jean quickly shuts the front door, locking it as fast as he can before fixing his eyes on Marco. He’s writhing in pleasure, breathy mewls and moans coming from his wet, parted lips. His cheeks are flushed a pretty cherry, almost drowning out the prominent freckles that adorn his face. He gyrates his hips against Darco’s, rubbing his arousal into the other’s.

“Mm, Darco,” he whispers, enchanted by how _good_ the copy of him is. “Yeah,”

Darco smirks, lips ghosting over skin to bite and suck along the juncture between Marco’s neck and shoulder. He gazes up at Jean, staring right at him. His eyes are _smoldering_ as he shows off, turning Marco’s legs into jelly within minutes. A flare of jealousy bursts to life in Jean’s heart.

Jean strokes through his hair once before approaching Marco and Darco, butting into their little makeout session. He falls to his knees, pushing his way in between the two, face perfectly aligned with Marco’s crotch. His hands make quick use of tugging down the sweats Marco is wearing, nuzzling into his twitching package.

“Jean!” squeaks Marco, hips thrusting as Jean pants hot breaths over his arousal.

“Mmn,” he moans over Marco’s cock, trapped in the fabric of his boxers. His deft tongue licks Marco through it as a preview of the warm mouth he possesses.

Marco’s head drops to his chest, hands now gripping at his boyfriend’s hair. He watches as Jean mouths up and down his length, wishing the contact wasn’t so muffled by the cloth of his boxers. It’s almost a relief when Jean finally pulls down Marco’s undergarments, diving in for the head, lapping up the salty, clear liquid pearling at the tip. He sucks like his boyfriend is his favorite flavor, gulping down every drop of precome. But it’s just the appetizer, he knows, because Darco is already moving behind Marco, gently guiding Marco to spread his legs for Jean. He turns Marco’s head, stealing a kiss from him before Marco chases him for more. Large, identical palms snake under his shirt, massaging his torso.

“Good?” Jean looks so hot kneeling in front of Marco, cock in his hand. He strokes it slowly, rubbing it against his soft lips, smearing the fluids over them.

His boyfriend keens, “Nnngh, Jean...”

“Hey, Marco, over here, love.” Darco smirks, bringing two fingers to Marco’s lips; he takes them without a hint of hesitation, slicking them thoroughly, flirting with the two digits in his mouth. “He sucks them like a pro, Jean.” comments Darco, stroking Marco’s tongue. “You’re one lucky man.”

It’s Jean’s turn to moan. “And you’re not allowed to call him ‘love’,” It comes out as a growl.

“Oh really?” Darco leaves a slick mess across Marco’s jaw as he pulls his fingers out. they slip under his shirt, circling over a soft nipple.

Jean’s boyfriend pants, back arching as his pushes his chest forward into the touch, tiny sounds coming from him that seems to spur everyone in the room just a little bit more. He gulps, trying to pull away from the two men surrounding him.

“N-uh, n-no.” Marco squirms away from their thirsty touches, flustered more than he has ever been in his life. “I, I-i mean...”

Darco and Jean look at him. “..No?” Darco’s voice almost comes out like a whisper. “Then, good.” But he doesn’t stop his assault.

He’s far from done with Jean and Marco.

He rubs his clothed girth along the swell of Jean’s ass, nipping at his neck with his canines, his eyes dark and glossy. Jean whimpers, hands clutching onto Darco’s forearm. Pleasure instantly washes over him; he knows that every inch of his body is being mentally devoured by his boyfriend, who stands near the living room lamp, frozen in place. Jean smiles, neck twisting almost unrealistically as he captures Darco’ lips with his own.

Tongues battle against one another, but Darco’s too good, biting at Jean’s sensitive lips. He curses when Jean clutches him by the hair, pulling at it in return for the pain he receives. They claw at each other, rough and tough, showing Marco the side of Jean he has never seen before.

All these things he’s never seen in the three years are just turning up _now_ , smacking Marco right in the face. Jean isn’t this vanilla type he thought he bumped into at a club after a runway show he was invited to five years ago in December. In fact, as Marco sees now, Jean’s just the opposite, macking on his look-alike while he watches, frozen on the spot like a deer in headlights.

He blinks, eyes wide as an owl’s, oddly turned on by all of this. It’s almost as if he’s watching himself play with Jean. A naughtier, more aggressive self playing with Jean like he’s his toy. Fuck. Marco wishes he could do that too, but that really isn’t his personality. Or so he thinks.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Darco’s voice is as suaver than Fiji water, his look burning holes into Marco. He sucks at Jean’s earlobe before beckoning Marco over. “Don’t you want Jean, too?”

Yes, yes, yes, Marco wants Jean, too. His boyfriend is writhing within Darco’s touch, totally enticing and just screaming for him to eat Jean whole. He's drowning in the lust after Jean. Darco, too. He wants it all; Marco’s body moves on automatic, prowling toward the two men in the room. He rests his head on Jean’s beating heart before bringing his teeth to his Adam’s apple, biting down on it like he’s going for a delicious treat.

Jean’s groan of pain vibrates against Marco’s teeth, his nerves firing off ten-thousand times faster than before. He is, as Darco said, one lucky man. He’s going at it with two people that he absolutely cannot push away.

It’s already too hot in here; Marco’s already sweating in his clothes, body pressed together with Jean’s steaming one. Feeling like he’ll overheat if he keeps going, he lets go of his boyfriend, pulling him along to the bedroom.

There’s something up with the air around them, but Jean can’t seem to put his finger on it. It’s so thick, clouding his head with arousal and excitement. When he was in the car he was able to refuse Darco from giving him road head, but now... Oh, now things are so much different. Marco’s here, maneuvering him to lie on the bed, the same glossed-over gaze that Darco has in his chocolate eyes. Jean can barely form a thought that doesn’t involve plowing Marco _and_ Darco into the mattress.

“Mm,” Darco works on getting rid of Jean’s pants, throwing them down and off as quick as he can, no grace in any of his motions. He rips his underwear away, immediately sticking his nose into those dark blond curls of Jean’s. The scent of musk fills his nostrils, exciting him further. “You smell delicious, Jean.” he comments, soft lips trailing over Jean’s cock.

“Yeah, Jean,” Marco’s at his sternum, love bites made from his mouth beginning to bloom on his skin. “Smells so good,”

‘Says you,’ Jean’s breath hitches just when he’s about to reply snarkily; he whines, eyes screwing shut at the sight of _two_ Marcos pleasing him with their bodies. Instead an, “Ohhh,” erupts from his throat, bouncing off the walls of their bedroom.

Darco and Marco, as if they can communicate telepathically, smile, directing their attention to Jean’s already stiff, leaking cock. Their dark eyes are locked on it, taking in the way it twitches and grows in girth. It only takes Marco's eyebrows to raise once, giving Darco the permission to wet his lips, going down to tease and lick one side of Jean's erection.

It takes everything in him to keep his eyes open and on them, gasping and moaning at them. He throws back his head when Darco makes the first move; those silky lips drive him crazy. When his tongue comes out to lick at the base, he cries out, head snapping up to watch Darco and Marco.

What he finds himself with is a truly a totally mind-blowing scene.

Marco locks mouths with Darco for a second, sliding their tongues together before side-glancing at Jean with a smirk. They lower themselves onto their bellies, keeping themselves upright on their forearms. It's tempting for Jean to ask one of the Bodts to sit on his face while the other fucks himself on his cock, but the words never get to fall from his mouth; Darco and Marco have already decided on something different than Jean's imagination, something better.

His cock is assaulted by both Marco and Darco, who make out whilst Jean's member stands straight between them. The lick and slurp and suck at his engorged member like candy, occasionally greeting each other with a flick of the tongue. The feeling is way better than Jean could even fathom to think of, and there's no stopping the duo now. Marco hums, licking his side of Jean's cock like a popsicle; he dips the tip of his tongue into the slit a few times, lapping up the salty precome. But there's too much, and it dribbles down the other side for Darco to guzzle.

Jean can't believe this. Darco, his creation, is asserting all energy towards the base of his member, even going a bit lower to suck on Jean's balls. He rolls them in their sac, chuckling when they begin to tighten a bit more, drawing closer upward. He takes his time with Jean's perineum, prodding and poking at it as if it were just for fun. But Jean is feeling it, absolutely ecstatic from all that's being done to him.

"Ah, fuck," His voice is soft, even when his spirit inside is aroused, doing double backflips in his ribcage. It’s getting too erotic, too much for Jean. His body is about to come from the stimulation, but he holds back, a string of curses leaving his mouth in the process.

Marco ceases his administrations, only to propose the question, “You want us to stop, babes?” Jean shakes his head against the pillows, messing up his hair in the back. “Then what, Jean?”

If only the blonde could speak properly. Jean swallows hard, a whimper coming from him, “Gonn’ come, if ya…” He moans when Marco picks up his pace again. “Hmm, no.. Marco,”

Darco’s the one to speak up. “ _Come_ on, Jean. Loosen up and relax. Let yourself go,”

As much as Jean refuses, his body is beginning to betray him. His orgasm is drawing near, burning in his loins, stirring his insides like a witch’s potion. He’s on the edge, about to tip over; it doesn’t help that Marco and Darco see his orgasm as a good thing, suckling on his dick without fail. Jean’s starting to develop spots in his vision, a signal that he’s too close to coming to stop it from happening. His hands go to the sheets, fisting them hard, grinding his molars together before tensing up, finally succumbing to his ecstasy.

Marco wrenches his mouth from Jean’s head, grabbing Darco by the hair to drag him up to his level. They stick their tongues out as Jean’s hot come explodes from the tip, spraying over their faces. Both Bodts are able to catch a few droplets of the milky substance on their tongue, though most ends up on Marco’s freckled nose and Darco’s chin, painting them in a translucent pearl color.

Darco slinks up to Jean’s ear, not bothering to clean his face before pressing cheek-to-cheek with the blonde. He lets out a moan, much like the one Jean made earlier, snickering when Jean bites his lower lip.

“Good boy,” Darco says, and Jean _shudders_. His reaction doesn’t go unnoticed, because Marco quirks a brow, crawling into Jean’s lap.

He rotates his hips in a circular fashion, grinding into Jean like he’s giving him an extra-slow, careful lapdance. Marco feels empowered with his boyfriend on the bed below him, looking absolutely helpless as he shivers from Darco’s praise. Something in Marco picks up on Jean’s response; he bends at the waist, kissing Jean’s nose sweetly.

“Mmn, Jean,” he mewls, reaching back to rub Jean’s cock against his clothed ass. “You feel so good, baby.”

“Yeah?” asks Jean, voice thick with lust. Marco looks amazing with come on his face.

Marco nods. “Yeah… Want you in me, Jean.” He kisses his boyfriend on the lips this time, crushing them together for a second.

There’s no way in hell Jean can resist _that_. He’s been wanting to have sex with Marco for weeks now and now he’s going to get some, proving that their vigilance and distance from each other was all just in vain.

Darco grins, laughter dark as he pushes the two men up from their current positions. Marco flops onto his back, legs spread for Jean to place his hands on them, balancing himself on all fours. Darco’s got a great view of Jean’s ass, his tongue hanging out of his mouth like a dog’s. The blonde’s hole looks so inviting, and he can’t resist putting his mouth to it.

Jean absolutely keens when Darco strokes his entrance with his slick, pink muscle, panting slightly. He gets himself together, though, focusing hard on stripping Marco after he flings his own shirt off, blushing down to his chest when Marco licks his lips, watching him.

He slides Marco’s jeans from his long legs, tossing it away from the bed; he’s so eager that he almost rips it in half, hands a little too strong for their own good.

“Oops,” he mutters, but it’s interrupted by a long moan when Darco prods his hole with a fingertip. It’s odd, kind of like a burning sensation from this angle, but Jean pushes back on it, ready for more.

Seeing Jean so aroused flares excitement in both of the Bodts, and Darco can’t help himself but to feed Jean more praises. “Look at you,” he whispers. “So good for me, so good for _us_.”

Jean whimpers, clearly approving of what’s being proclaimed. He kisses Marco in return, rubbing his body against his boyfriend’s like a cat in heat. The kiss is wet and overwhelmingly filled with need. It’s as if Marco’s pouring all he has into that kiss, communicating all his love, his hurt, his frustration, his lust, his care to Jean through his lips and tongue, telling him how much he loves Jean.

Marco takes Jean’s left hand, tracing over his knuckles before he guides it down his body, stopping only when it’s between his legs, softly drawing circles around Marco’s dark pink pucker.

“Darco,” Marco says, confusing Jean for a second.

“Yes, sweets?” Darco grins ferally when Jean glares at him calling Marco by a pet name _he_ uses on occasion.

Marco rolls his head to the side, peering up at Jean and Darco. “Could you… get the lube? ‘S in the left top drawer.”

Darco turns to his side, rooting around for the lube in the nightstand drawer, observing a few things in there just to stall time. Finally, after seconds of agonizingly slow searching, Darco finds the tube, throwing the lube towards Marco. It lands on the sheets near Marco’s head.

Marco hums, “Thanks, hun.” He pops open the cap, squirting the cool gel all over Jean’s hand, much too much than needed. He doesn’t mind wasting it, though. The thoughts and fantasies that run through Jean’s head is causing his face to make the best of expressions. “Do something, babes.” he says, gnawing on the corner of his lower lip, side-glancing Darco as he hands him the lube to prepare Jean, too.

Jean plunges two fingers in one go, too excited to be going slow, and Marco whines in searing pleasure, immediately pushing his hips back for more. Jean can’t say no to that; he pushes them in to the knuckle, beginning to scissor his boyfriend.

That smattering of freckles are faint in the flush of pinkish-red, drool already seeping from his gorgeous mouth that sucked Jean off just minutes before. He’s loud, rolling his hips in attempt to get Jean to brush against his sweet spot. He breathes deep, holding his breath whenever Jean gets so close to that nub of pleasure, but doesn’t quite reach it. A particularly hard thrust down onto Jean’s digits, and he almost screams as his pleasure point is pressed against.

“Yeah?” Jean is so quiet, Marco can barely hear him.

“Yeeeaah,” he moans. “More, I want one more.” A third finger enters alongside its brothers, jabbing Marco’s prostate with no mercy. “Oh, right _there_. Y’re so amazing, Jean.”

Jean gulps, jerking forward when Darco goes in for the kill again, mimicking what Jean’s doing to Marco on a smaller scale. He uses one finger, wiggling it into the blonde to open him up for the others and, ultimately, his hard-as-a-rock cock.

Jean ends up being surprisingly more pliable than Darco had thought, stretching nicely around his two fingers, as one had sneaked its way into Jean. He adds his tongue into the mix, causing Jean to squeal unexpectedly. It’s so surprising that the blonde accidentally shoves his own digits deep into Marco; it causes a chain reaction of moaning and groaning.

“Shit, Jean,” Darco’s voice is rough, sending his nerves into overdrive. “Look how fucking sexy you are. Try stroking Marco some. I bet he _really_ likes it.”

And Marco’s boyfriend does so, one of his hands wrapping around Marco’s half-hard member, pumping him slowly. Marco squeezes his eyes shut, whining through his nose. Darco knows how to please Marco through Jean, as if he knows Marco’s body like his own… Oh…

Jean tries not to think about that thought too much, instead playing Connect the Dots with his tongue on Marco’s face.

The heat for them is too much, though, and all three of them agree it’s time to move on, deeming each other ready for the main entree. Darco retrieves his fingers from that glorious, tight hole, only to grind his dick over it teasingly. Jean won’t beg for it, but he wants it bad. Darco knows this too well, slowly taking action to push into him.

“Whoa,” Jean clenches up immediately. “Darco, condom.” After a second, “And gimme one, too.”

Rolling his eyes, Darco obliges, throwing one at Jean, then rolling on the condom, covering himself generous amounts of lube. Jean does the same, Marco’s eyes trained on his boyfriend’s rigid length. He spreads his legs wider, bent at the knees, his heels digging into the mattress.

“You ready, Marco?” Jean checks with Marco, pecking him on the lips once for reassurance. His thumbs smooth over freckled shoulders for a moment, touch gentle. So unlike how he’s feeling inside.

Marco makes a ‘mmm’ sound, closed mouth now open although he doesn’t make an attempt to get a coherent sentence out. He paws at Jean’s pectorals, goading him to get going. He wants Jean inside him _now_ , and he won’t accept anything else but that.

He’s getting impatient.

“Hurry, Jean.” He pouts, knowing full well that his boyfriend can’t resist that face of his. “Fuck me, babes.”

“‘K-kay,” Jean stutters, lining himself up with Marco’s twitching entrance.

And then he pushes in.

Oh, it’s unbelievably hot and tight inside Marco, and Jean can't form a single word in his head that can describe this pure bliss he's feeling. Inch by agonizing inch, he slides to the hilt, breathless as he revels in how perfect they come together. He gasps when Darco teases him from behind, still working his erection over Jean's ass. He stops to stroke himself, carefully watching Jean and Marco.

"Go on, didn't you hear him?" Darco smirks. "Fuck him, Jean. You know you want to."

Marco wiggles his hips in response, moaning wantonly when Jean retracts almost all the way out, then slides inside within one rough thrust. Marco's arms wrap around his neck, eyes once wide and attentive slowly turning half-lidded and glazed over with each movement of Jean inside of him.

“Do it,” murmurs Marco, spurring on the blonde to keep fucking him hard. “Oh god, Jean…”

Jean piledrives into his boyfriend with vigor, pants becoming animalistic grunts, mind so foggy that he can’t think of anything but Marco and Darco. He hisses when Marco rakes his fingernails down the nape of his neck, slamming into his ass and holding it there, instead opting to grind into him instead.

Marco’s floating in the clouds by now, fucked to the point of his eyes crossing. He rolls them back, however, until the whites of his eyes are what are revealed whenever his eyelids flutter open. He scratches at the skin of his boyfriend, mouth hung open in a silent scream. He holds his breath, no longer capable of controlling his breathing; everything is so much more intense when he can’t breathe, and when he finally forces himself to inhale, he reaches for Darco.

Darco bends over Jean, pressing his torso against his back, smiling gently at Marco. Marco whines high and needy, grabbing his bicep before sliding his hand down towards Darco’s elbow, stopping at his wrist.

“You alright, love?” he says, earning a growl from Jean. “You want something?” Marco lolls his head as best he can on the bed. He doesn’t talk, leading Darco’s warm hand to his throat, pressing it firmly on his windpipe, moaning quietly. “Ah,” Something clicks in Darco; he gets the gist of Marco’s request, constricting his throat more firmly this time. “Like that, baby?”

Marco chokes but nods, tears beginning to form at the corners of his eyes. He looks so desperate, already feeling as if he’s about to come. But he can’t. Not yet. Jean’s pounding is halted, instead rubbing at his sweet spot ever-so-gently. It’s too much, but not enough for Marco. He wants more; he wants to be pummeled into the mattress until he can feel the springs stabbing at his back, squeaking from the force of Jean’s harsh thrusts.

The grip on his throat is unbearably tight; when Marco begins to gag again, Darco eases up, allowing him to inhale and exhale. He coughs from the discomfort in his throat, but grins brilliantly when Jean pulls a worried look at him.

“I’m fine,” he says, voice a bit gravelly from being choked. “I’m fine, Jea-ohhh!”

Jean rams into him quick and deep, kissing him with lips and teeth and tongue. He groans loudly, hands around Marco's long neck, strangling him just enough so he's gasping for air. Marco's muscles clench around his boyfriend's length, squeezing him like a vice. Jean throws his back, almost hitting Darco in the nose. The Marco look-alike dodges it swiftly, though, avoiding a very atmosphere-ruining disaster. He sniggers, the blunt head of his cock now directly up on Jean’s hole.

Teeth abusing his lip, the blonde sways his hips back and forth, taunting Darco. He’s okay with this, surprisingly, as if the curiosity of having something in him while he does his boyfriend is too great to push down and suppress it down.

Darco lubes himself up again and pushes in until he’s completely sheathed by Jean’s hot ass.

It feels absolutely _unbelievable_. It’s so incredible; Jean’s got his dick in his boyfriend and a cock much like Marco’s own shoved up in him. He can’t believe he’s still got himself under control, to be honest. Marco is compressing him like an anaconda and Darco’s pressing on a really nice spot inside him, driving him nuts. Jean falls onto Marco, releasing him from his hold. He propels himself into his freckled boyfriend, feeling Darco’s length move in him at the same time. It’s double the stimulation, and it’s picking at his seams.

Darco hisses out a curse, deciding to fuck Jean for all he’s worth. He takes hold of Jean’s shoulders, taking control of the pace they go at. He fucks him nice and slow at first, the slow drag of pleasurable movement torturing Marco at the bottom.

Marco scrapes his fingernails along Darco’s toned thigh, looking at both Jean and his look-alike with want in his irises. Moaning in abandon, he angles himself so he’s almost bent in half, allowing Jean to hit his sweet spot dead on. His eyes close slowly, his half-lidded gaze turning into a blissful expression over his face.

He holds his own breath this time, getting the hint from his tensing stomach muscles that his time is drawing near. He’s going to come any second now. A hand grabs his cock, though, before Marco can even move to jerk himself off. Darco’s got it covered, stroking him in a firm grasp.

The action is more than enough for Marco. He curls into himself, face scrunching up in near-satisfaction, feet pointing in a perfect ballet arch. He’s so close, so close... Darco pulls back the foreskin to reveal the sensitive, leaking head and swipes his thumb over it again and again.

Marco comes with a cracked scream, his spunk squirting over Darco’s thumb, landing on his chest, little droplets of it dripping into his navel when the big splatter has passed. His whole being shakes and shivers, electricity running down his spine. His toes splay in pleasure, back arching impossibly. Marco’s eyes are wide open, though the chocolate brown color in them are mere slivers compared to his pupil, blown big.

He stares at nothing in particular, head stuck in the clouds. Marco floats down slowly, chest puffed up from the inhale he took as he came. He breathes out, eyes rolling closed before kissing Jean sweetly.

Jean’s nearly at his limit as well, working up a sweat fucking Marco as he’s being fucked as well. The way Marco tightens up after he comes is amazing, and he thrusts hard and fast as Marco releases, his come splattering on both himself and Jean. He kisses back, gentle even though he wants it hard. The rhythm Darco has set is too slow for him. He ruts his hips back, speeding up those thrusts, moaning as he does so.

“Nuh-uh,” Darco says. A hand goes down onto one of Jean’s ass cheeks, spanking it as a warning. “You don’t get to until I say so.”

Jean snivels, but gets the message. He decides to comply to Darco’s will, pulling out of Marco so Darco can press his front down and hike his ass up higher.

“Hnn, fuck!” Jean sobs, his voice raw from all the previous activity. “Darco…” He pulls out of Marco, shucking off his condom.

But he knows Darco isn’t going to last much longer, either. They’ve been at it for a while, and he’s too lazy to check the alarm clock on the nightstand to his left. Some of Darco’s thrusts are erratic, not quite in a pattern that’s as stable as the beginning of the night. They battle it out, moans getting louder, grunts getting less human-like, ramming together more and more until Darco stills abruptly.

He gasps, pleasure washing over him like a sudden tidal wave. It’s so good, it’s almost painful, and he collapses on Jean, pushing him down with his full weight.

Just knowing Darco’s coming fills Jean over the brim, and he finds himself jerking his cock as hard as he can, as fast as he possibly can before he, too, is splattering his fluids onto Marco below him. It’s even better than the first orgasm, shattering his self-control and leaving him floating in a sea of pleasure.

They lay there like that, coming back to reality on their own time. When Jean comes to, Marco’s dozing off, light snores coming from him. He smiles gently, or at least he thinks he does (Jean wouldn't be surprised if all his facial muscles weren't cooperating with him just yet; he may have pushed the limits too far), tracing Marco's soft lips with a finger before kissing him.

Darco seems to have rolled over and off of Jean and Marco, now sprawled out on his back. The protection hangs on his dick, the come threatening to spill from it. Jean helps him remove it, tying it off before shooting it into the trashcan. They exchange a kiss, chaste and unlike the ones earlier, reveling in the peace and quiet that's overcome the bedroom.

Only when Marco rouses from his short nap do they snuggle next to him. Jean notices the streaks of come still stuck to them; blushing, he hauls himself off the bed and to the bathroom. He comes back with a towel, joining the two Bodts once again.

Marco hums appreciatively as Jean cleans him up, sneezing when the towel wipes the dried come from his nose. He whispers a 'thanks, love' to Jean, eskimo-kissing with Darco with a faint smile on his face. Jean steals Darco from Marco for a second, cleaning off his chin before moving onto his now-soft dick, wiping him clean there, too.

“Wait, baby,” Darco stops Marco from grabbing the towel, climbing over Jean.

Marco tsks, “Fine.”

Together, they lap the come from Jean’s warm skin, licking him until he’s streak-free. Jean squints at them, trying hard not to get hard again. He fails though, groaning when Marco positions himself over Jean’s face, balancing himself on his heels.

“Ready for round two?” he asks, already spreading himself with two fingers for his boyfriend.

Jean knows he’s in for a long night.

* * *

Everyone is sore the morning after, clinging to one another despite how humid it is in the room. Sun rays pour through the shades, painting the room in lines of gold. Still, as pretty as it is, the sunlight disturbs Jean, who wakes up to an eyeful of it. He ducks his head down, coming into eye contact with Marco.

“Good morning, sunshine.” Marco says, chuckling lowly.

Jean huffs, caressing a freckled cheek. “Morning. There is no good in ‘good morning’.” His eyes trail over to Darco, who is wrapped around Marco, knocked out cold. “He’s still here, huh?”

“Yeah,” Marco murmurs. “Care to explain to me what really happened?”

So, with much coaxing and reassuring, Jean tells the whole story about Darco in a hushed tone. He confesses why Darco looks so much like Marco, why he had no choice but to bring him home or else Eren would’ve been eaten alive, and that he’s totally screwed if he doesn’t fix the AlloSphere somehow. He’s worried about all these things, but Marco stops him in mid-rant, bringing a finger to his lips.

“It’s okay,” he states simply. “Do you regret it?”

Jean pauses. It’s true, he’d been less than happy at the beginning when Darco first came to be. He was even more upset when Darco started macking on his boyfriend right after he tried to seduce Eren _and_ suck Jean off in the car.

But that didn’t mean Darco was necessarily a bad thing. He gave Jean and Marco the night of their lives, He unearthed the unseen and untold kinks that both of them had, respecting their boundaries when it became too much or too painful to bear. Darco took the worries from their minds during those hours, filling the empty space with good feeling and vibes. It was like Jean and Marco had been missing information about one another and Darco was it, the key to a room full of knowledge about each other. Jean had created something, no, someone so interesting and good for them even when making Darco physical and tangible was not his intention.

He knew he had Darco’s 3D model on email and on USB; his project was still safe. But did he want to send this Darco back to the virtual world.. if he could? And there was Marco’s question: did Jean regret the creation of Darco?

“No,” he says. “No, not in a million years.” He’s surprisingly happy the way things are, even though the path to his happiness was not the one he was looking for in the first place.

Darco hugs Marco close, nuzzling into his shoulder. “I’m glad.” he confesses. He’s been listening this entire time. “Out of mistakes come miracles and lessons,”

“And that’s a gift in itself, isn’t it?” Marco smiles.

**Author's Note:**

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